


Everything is Bigger on the Inside

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Domestic, Multi, Nostalgia, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy Pond is just getting used to life aboard the Tardis when something catches her eye. A big trench coat, too weathered to be unworn and too stylish for the Doctor to have owned, surely? Why is he so jumpy about it…?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Bigger on the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Little one-shot I wrote a long time ago! Enjoy!   
> Kind of Rose/ Doctor shippy.

“Well, that was quite an adventure,”Amy sighed, reaching up to squeeze buckets of chlorine water out of her hair with a twist of her hands. “You weren’t lying- the pool really does end in fifty feet. I give up- I owe you twenty quid.”  
“Oi! Watch it!” The Doctor exclaimed, frowning distastefully as the water splashed onto the flooring of the dimly lit hallway. Amy rolled her eyes at him.  
“Don’t be such a housewife,” she scowled.   
The Doctor trailed along behind, looking hurt. “I am most certainly not a housewife. And keep your money- buy Rory something nice. A razor, perhaps. He’s been looking rather scruffy.” He bumped into Amy’s back as she gave an abrupt stop.  
Hitching up the hem of the ragged towel she wore, Amy peered at the nook at the end of the hall. “Hey! What gives? What’ve you done with my clothes?” The Doctor reeled back.  
“I haven’t done a thing with them! What do you mean?!” He looked over her shoulder at the empty space. “Oh. How odd.” He glanced back at her, looking at ease once again. “TARDIS must’ve had her way with them- this used to be a miniature teleport. Floating around in the walls here somewhere, now.”  
Amy gave a grin. “Or Rory’s playing a dirty trick.”  
The Doctor shot a venomous glare her way before jabbing a finger in her direction, sticking his face in close to Amy’s with his expression grave.“No. NO. One of the MANY unspoken conditions of letting you two be together, married, on MY TARDIS, together, married, you and Rory- NO DIRTY TRICKS. Of any sort. At all. None of that aboard my ship.”  
She pushed him back, scoffing. “Would you stop tutting about and get them back? I’m freezing,” she complained.  
“Quit your whining. I can’t just get them back, when she’s bored, she’s crafty- if I muss around, then she’ll hide them forever. They’ll turn up again sometime.” he shrugged.  
Amy blinked. “But I only packed for two days! All my other clothes are filthy. And I am not trotting about the universe in a swimsuit.”  
The Doctor giggled at her, and she shoved him. “Come on! There’s a million rooms in here. Surely there’s at least one wardrobe.” She raised an eyebrow. “Because I will personally throw you out of here with my bare hands if you seriously wear THAT disaster all the time.” She indicated towards him, as he became put off again.  
“How many times must I tell you, Amelia, -,” he began to sigh.  
Amy interrupted him with a raised finger. “If I hear that line about bow ties one more time, I’ll gag you before I maroon you.”  
The Doctor straightened the bow tie with injured dignity. “That was rude of you to say, Amelia,” he sniffed. “Come along Pond, I’ll find you a bloody wardrobe, not that you deserve it.”

 

Getting to the wardrobe took what seemed like an extensive amount of time, at least to Amy, for traveling through musty, dark corridors, dripping wet, and wearing only a bathing suit and ratty towel wasn’t exactly an uplifting experience. After maybe ten minutes of walking around aimlessly, Amy became more and more fed up.  
“I mean, I know it’s big, but seriously- you’re one bloke. And this is the tenth hallway we’ve passed into- I mean, come on.” She eyed door after door, considering looking into them, seeing as the Doctor’s back was turned. She stroked a doorknob as the Doctor replied, strolling on ahead.  
“The TARDIS was meant for fleets of Time Lords, Amy. There should be at least ten more of us running ‘round in here. Amy?” he looked behind him, catching sight of Amy poking her head into the room. “Hey!” He hurried back down, pulling her out by the arm. “That’s enough of that, nosey. You don’t usually go rummaging about in the houses of your hosts, do you? How rude!”  
Amy gazed up at him, looking dumbfounded. “But.. that was a bedroom! With- ... with dresser and a bed and everything.” She saw in her mind the room, looking like someone had only just left it- the bed made messily, clothing articles thrown about, a picture frame on a nightstand. The Doctor looked taken aback at this statement, wringing his hands as he often did when faced with awkward conversation.  
“So? You and Rory have a room. So did lots of my other... passengers.”  
Amy shrugged. “Well... yeah. I guess it’s just weird, y’know.” She frowned. “Everything here is so... magical and surreal. And then all of a sudden, its just something so... human. Its like seeing a coffee shop on the moon or something. And it looks like they were just here, too.” Amy made a face. “Do you not clean up after them, if they go?”  
The Doctor smiled, eyes looking old. “She didn’t like me going through her stuff.”  
Feeling thrown off by his nostalgic comment, Amy pondered it until they reached the end of the hallway, The Doctor throwing open the door with unneeded flamboyance.  
“Here we are! The wardrobe. For all your wardrobe needs. Clothes, also.” Amy looked over him and gasped. The room was enormous, with cubbies and racks and cabinets of clothes, of all colors, designs, and time periods. Walking past him, she fingered with awe a red dress that was hung up, full of flowing laces and silken fabric that was bunched and braided and tied in the most elaborately beautiful way she’d ever seen. The Doctor came to a stop beside her and sighed. “You girls and your dresses. I swear, I show you the universe, all these infinite wonders, but the most reaction I get out of you lot is the first time you see a fancy dress.”  
Amy ran her hands over it. “It’s so beautiful!” She breathed. He rolled his eyes.  
“It’s so 61st century. Walk into any other era wearing that, and you’ll get shot. Put it down, you’d be better off in your bathing suit.”  
She tore herself away, promising that one day she would demand to see the 61st century if only to wear the dress. As the Doctor wandered off amongst all the fabrics, Amy’s attention was caught by an old hatrack, alone in a darker corner, adorned by only a few articles. Reaching out to it, she pulled off a trenchcoat, long and brown, looking weather- worn.  
“Ooh, look at this!” she crooned, catching the Doctor’s attention. She pulled it on, shimmying fancifully. “A bit modern for you, Doctor. It’s actually a bit stylish, which means it can’t possibly be yours.” Amy put her hands in the pockets, throwing him a sultry glance.   
He just stared, his eyes going a bit sad. “Nah. it.. belonged to someone I knew.”  
“Hm. Obviously a man, obviously a stylish man, a man you once knew,” Amy said with a wink. “Anything you wanna confess to me, Doctor?”  
He neared her, eyeing the coat, going slow. “Very funny, Amelia. Take it off.”  
“Wait- wait a minute.” Amy’s face went white, as she withdrew her hands from the pockets, froze, then plunged them in again. “Oh, my God. The pockets are huge! It’s... it’s like..” she gasped, bending down and reaching in all the way to her elbows. “Oh my God!”  
The Doctor threw his arms up in exasperation. “So, the pockets are a little bigger on the inside! Honestly, Amy, how are how surprised?!”  
“Wait a minute. There’s stuff in here!” Amy creased her brow, rummaging about in the coat pockets. She let out a sudden yelp. “Something moved!”  
“Oh, yeah.” The Doctor nodded. “That’ll be Jeremy. You be careful- it took me weeks to catch him. And he bites.”  
She shook her head frustratedly and kept on rummaging. Finally, she came up with something in her hand. “What’s this?” They both looked at it. She opened her palm, and hummed. “A cell? The Doctor? With a mobile? I thought I’d never see the day.”  
“Oh, shut up, it’s not mine,” he scowled. He reached out and touched the phone’s slick side.  
“It’s a bit 2005, don’t you think?” Amy continued, flipping it open. “I mean, if your going to have a cell phone, at least jump forward and get yourself the iPhone 20 or whatever.”  
“I told you- its not mine! It’s... a friend of mine’s.” The Doctor looked bothered, but also resigned, as Amy tapped the blank screen. “Out of battery. That’s a shame- there’s a lot you can learn about a man by his mobile.” She plunked the device into his waiting hand, and went back into the depths of the pockets once again as he turned it over in his palm, reading the engraving on the phone’s side, that Amy had missed-   
property of Martha Jones  
He let out a small smile. “Martha Jones,” he mouthed, running a fingertips over the letters, and he could swear he heard her, “When that thing rings, you better come running, mister.” The smirk that followed was stamped in his mind’s eye- her face determined, sure of herself, finally able to let go. But her eyes were sad. Still hurt, still asking. Why not me?  
“Aha!” Amy pulled him from his thoughts as she pulled out a small, velvety box. Re- composing herself, she lifted her eyebrows at him, jiggling the box under his sight. She saw his face contort slightly, and knew she’d somehow triggered some emotion. “A ring box? A little ring box? Now this is interesting. I wonder what River would think about this.”  
“It’s not-,”  
She prized the box open, to reveal not a ring, but a small and rusted and homely key. “Well,” she said, trying to hide her confusion, “That wasn’t as climatic as I thought it’d be.”  
He put the phone in his jacket pocket and took the small box from her, picking the key up and turning it over, the brass surface giving a tiny responding glow. He held it up, pursing his lips.  
Amy’s eyes widened. “But that’s a TARDIS key. You already have one, don’t you? You do. Is that like a spare? Did this bloke have a key to your TARDIS?”  
“No, no. This... this was another friend of mine. She, ah..,” the Doctor creased his brow, looking conflicted, running his fingers over the serrated edge of the key, “She forgot about me. I had to keep her key.”  
Used to her happy- go- lucky Doctor, not this darkly reminicscent version, Amy clutched his arm, peering at the homely little thing he held so reverently. “Don’t be stupid. No one could forget you.”  
“It wasn’t her decision to.” He looked up sharply, putting the key in the box and closing it with a snap of finality, setting it on a shelf at his side. His words rang ominously in her head.  
“Whose was it, then?” she asked, in a hushed tone, wondering slightly if she was crossing a boundary with him.  
He glanced down at her, eyes looking weary. “Mine.” Amy stared at him, and he could see the shock in her eyes, the immediate question afterwards- she assumed there was the possibility that he’d make her forget him, too. Well. He gave her a small half smile, channeling into it as much reassurance as he could. Because he knew for sure, positively, definitely, that what he had done to Donna, he would never do again. He would never do it ever.  
The glance he’d given must have worked, because Amy attacked the pockets once more, this time a bit more cautiously. She was beginning to suspect the obvious- this ‘bloke’ ‘s coat must have belonged to him. Or at least was extremely close to him- these pockets were full of dangerous memories that she was starting to find unnerving.   
“You never gave me a key, Doctor,” she said conversationally, digging deep, wanting something good. “Do I not qualify or something? One would assume after at least the vampires, I’d be higher on the list.”  
“Yes, I did.” The Doctor said sniffily. “I gave it to Rory.”  
“What?!”  
“It’s a TARDIS KEY, Amy, I am not having it lost!”  
“Oh, you get lost,” Amy grumbled, mentally noting that she would have to confront Rory about the key later. He would give it up eventually, with the right application of teasing and flirting. Which the Doctor knew would happen, so he sat grumpily by as Amy rummaged for a good two minutes before her eyes lit up.  
“AhHAH,” she announced. He looked at her suspiciously.   
“What? What did you find?” he asked, curious himself. Amy grinned, darting away from him as she began pulling it forth.  
“A motherload, of sorts. One thing that might solve the mystery of the Doctor, mayhaps? For I have located-,” she brandished it, “A photograph!”  
She greedily looked it over before the Doctor could respond. Head dipping close and her hair spilling over each side of her face, she didn’t see the Doctor’s reaction to this new discovery. She did not see him step back when he recognized it, or the look on his face.  
The picture was an old Polaroid, still glossy but showing the creases and curled corners of a slight age, rubbed thin in some places, a photo that had been looked over several times. Folded, opened, looked at, shoved away quickly. Well worn. The image confused Amy. The scene displayed on it had a background of cheerful greens and blues, a city- scape lounging in the back shadows. In the middle stood a man, a handsome man, tall and thin and wearing a pinstriped suit... and a long, tan trenchcoat.   
Instinctively, Amy fingered the lapel, recognizing the coat with a bolt of shock. The weight of it on her shoulders seemed to increase, but she wasn’t done looking. The man was grinning ear- to- ear, freckles splattering the laugh lines of his brown eyes. His hair was something else entirely- flopping here and there and blowing back in the breeze, dark and carefree. There was a girl on his arm, too. She was extremely pretty, wearing a blue shirt and jeans, in mid- laugh. Looking up at the camera with her dark eyebrows lifted, as if to say, ‘what’s your problem?’ She was leaning into the man’s side, blond hair tickling his neck. One of her arms branched out past the edge of the image, holding the camera. The other was twined with his, fingers laced tight. The Doctor came up to Amy’s side, staring down at the photograph and rubbing his jaw.  
“Doctor, this was him, wasn’t it? This is the guy who owned the coat.” Amy gawked as The Doctor shifted uncomfortably.  
“Yes, it was.”  
“Well, well. He’s certainly pretty. I can see why you kept his stuff.”  
“Oi! Must I always remind you that you are a married woman, Amelia?”  
“Mm, even Rory would agree with me.” Amy rubbed the coat against her cheek. “Huh.. smells like dust. Rain, too... smells like you, actually. You sure he was just a friend?”  
The Doctor threw his arms up, once again exasperated. “Yes! Yes, I am sure! You’re driving me crazy.”  
“I will continue to remain suspicious.” She went back to looking at the picture. “You certainly have some competition, though- who’s she?” Amy ran a fingernail over the girl’s smiling face, obscured by her hair in the wind. She looked young- younger than Amy. Twenty, maybe. Amy felt a tug of dislike at the pretty young blonde.  
“That’s Rose. Rose Tyler.” His voice had an edge as he stared down at the two.  
“Well, Miss Rose looks like she’s getting her bread buttered.”  
“Hey.” The Doctor shot her a glare. “Don’t. She was a respectable girl, and it wasn’t like that...”  
“Sure, whatever.” Amy continued to study it, pointing out in her mind the tightness of the two’s hands and the look of intense fondness on the man’s face as he gazed down, eyes soft for the girl who grinned gaily at the lens. Amy let it be silent for a few more seconds before inquiring, “Was.”  
“What?” The Doctor said sluggishly, as if coming out of a daydream.  
“You said was, like past tense. What happened to her?”  
The Doctor took the photo gently from her, face stoic. “Long story. Just... haven’t seen her in a long time.”  
“Oh.” Amy stood on tiptoe, getting one last glance at the couple, frozen in such a blissful scene. “What happened to him?”  
Having pocketed the photo, the Doctor was turning to leave when she spoke, but slowed as she said the words. He angled his face towards her, but never completely turned around. “...The man with the coat.”  
“The man with the phone, and the key, and the Polaroid. The one in the picture. What happened to him, do you still know him?” Amy asked, looking after the Doctor with a creased brow. He stopped, was silent for a heartbeat, then turned all the way around, his back to her.  
“He died.”  
The coat suddenly weighed a million pounds. “Oh.” Feelings mixed up and confused inside of her, Amy pinched the frayed sleeve, preparing to slide it off- she wouldn’t dare wear the coat now. The freckled, happy face with the soft eyes and ridiculous hair burned in her mind. Off it came, with a tired sigh across her back and onto the coat rack once more. Amy let her fingers linger on the fabric, now sensing the ghosts woven inside. “She must have been sad,” she murmured.   
“...Yeah.” The Doctor said, without turning.


End file.
